Chapter 3

Later that afternoon, Keira pushed her chair back from the computer desk and stretched. She'd finished another chapter, but the story just didn't feel right to her. She couldn't put her finger on what the problem was, and the result was a maddening case of writer's block. She glanced at the clock, realizing with a start that it was already past 4:00 PM. She hadn't eaten anything all day and still needed to shower.

An hour later, she stood before her open closet, wearing only panties and a matching bra. Her hair still wet from the shower, she tried on, and then discarded, outfit after outfit. After a few minutes, she growled in frustration and picked up the phone, dialing Molly's cell. Her friend answered on the second ring. "What's up, pussycat?"

Keira flopped backwards onto her queen-size bed. "I'll tell you what's up. What's up is that your invitation has turned me into the kind of girl that I hate!" She sat up and looked around her bedroom. It looked like the the room of a teenage girl who was getting ready for her first date.

Molly laughed. "And what kind of girl is that?"

"The kind of girl that throws all her clothes on the floor and cries 'I have nothing to we-e-e-earrr'. Oh, I hate that crap! I don't have the time to be that high-maintenance. It's just -- obnoxious."

"Oh, Keira. Keira, Keira, Keira. It's all part of being female, don't you know that? It's our prerogative to act like that. In fact, I kind of enjoy it."

Keira threw herself back onto the bed again. "Of course you like acting like this, you're a freakin' supermodel. It goes along with your job. But I don't like feeling this way. It's so....I don't know...annoyingly girly. I'm a fun person with a good brain in my head, so why am I wasting valuable time worrying about whether this skirt looks good with this blouse? For crying out loud, my bedroom looks like my closet threw up. And not just a little - we're talking projectile vomit!" In spite of herself, Keira started laughing. At least she could see the humor in the situation.

"Fashion is fun," Molly insisted. "Especially when you're dressing to go meet Bon Jovi. Just tease your hair up really high, use a lot of hairspray, and drag out your old leopard-print halter top and black spandex hot pants. That should be easy enough."

Keira groaned. "It's not exactly 1986 anymore, Molly. I doubt that the band is still impressed by that kind of style. And to be honest, I don't think I ever owned any clothes like that."

Molly clucked her tongue sympathetically. "Oh, that's too bad. If I had known about that earlier today, I would have let you borrow some of my stuff. Anyway, just pick something out and I'll be there in an hour. We can go get a drink and something to eat before the show."

Keira sighed and surveyed the mess that was her bedroom. "I'll do my best," she said, and hung up the phone.